


Four Last Lies

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-27
Updated: 2011-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On bad days, it seems like Bill just lies, and lies, and lies. He's trying to stop</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Last Lies

**i.**

While Saul was being tortured on New Caprica, Bill had been up in space, just drifting. At least, that's what it felt like.

He had drifted without him, skirting around the possibility that Saul was dead, that he would launch his great rescue mission only to discover that one of the main reasons Bill felt so guilty hadn't made it. Every time he dreamed about it, it made the hollow inside him deeper and deeper.

He filled it any way he knew how, and he dreamed of Saul, not just as his friend, but how they'd been years ago, when life was easier and in the dark after lights-out, Saul would slither down from the top bunk and into Bill's.

Bill thought that when they finally rescued their people and he got Saul back that the hollow might go away, but it didn't. Instead, he lied, pretending everything was back to normal, as it would have been if they'd never found that frakking planet.

Bill hated lying. He especially hated lying to Saul. He'd probably lied least to Saul of everyone he knew, so why did he keep doing it? After all Saul had been through on New Caprica and afterward, he didn't deserve to be lied to.

"I don't mind it, you know," he said, nodding at Saul, indicating his eyepatch. "It looks good on you."

Saul's shoulders hunched and he looked down at his glass. "You're just saying that," he muttered, taking a sip. "Because you're you."

Bill wasn't sure how to respond to that. Saul practically knew him better than he knew himself. "I mean it," he insisted, contemplating his own glass, watching the play of the light on the edges. The world felt somewhat thick and it occurred to Bill that he might be drunk.

"You're saying you like me better with one eye than with two," said Saul.

"No." Bill shook his head. "I'm saying I _still_ like you with one eye. Patch doesn't bother me. You're still Saul."

Saul heaved a deep sigh and rested his head on the back of the couch. "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Bill."

Bill crooked an eyebrow at him. "Anything I can do to make you believe me?"

Saul shrugged. "Don't think so. Trust me, Bill, I'm not the same Saul anymore, anyhow."

Bill studied him out of the corner of his eye, aware that he might spook Saul if he was caught staring. They'd only just been able to return to some semblance of normalcy, though Saul wasn't back to work yet. Bill was hesitant to push him, though. Bill would certainly miss it if Saul never wanted to bring their relationship back to the same level it had once been at, but he could understand Saul's wariness, after what he'd been through. _After Ellen_ , Bill thought. If he couldn't be truly honest to anyone else, at least he could do it inside his own head.

"You're the same in every way that counts," he told him. "Fundamentally unchanged."

The corners of Saul's lips twitched. "You use the big words."

Bill smirked. "It's because I read books."

Saul chuckled, low, one of Bill's favorite sounds. He itched for closeness, to feel Saul's body pressed against his, skin-to-skin. But he was waiting for Saul to make the first move, in everything. That was the decent thing to do. If Saul wanted to resurrect that long-dormant part of their relationship, though, Bill would be only happy to let him.

As if he could read Bill's mind, Saul's knee flopped against Bill's and he slid down slightly in his seat.

"When did we get so old?" he asked mournfully.

"You were always old." Bill took another swig. "Me, I'm still young."

Saul's eye swiveled up to meet Bill's. That was the weirdest part, really, that only one of Saul's eyes was looking at him. That got a reaction out of him, Bill mused. Maybe that's what he'd been gunning for, the reaction.

"Whippersnapper," said Saul.

Bill laughed. At least he still had all of his sense of humor. He paused. "Saul, I don't know if I ever thanked you properly for saving my life."

Saul shook his head. Bill could see him starting to shut down. "It was nothing," he muttered.

Silence descended on them again. Saul finished his drink and reached for a refill, then thought better of it. He sighed.

"You okay?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," said Saul thoughtfully. "I just… don't like the idea of going back to that empty room."

Bill made a sympathetic noise and clapped his hand onto Saul's knee. "You ever need to crash, Saul, you're welcome to stay here." He paused, then added, "You can take the bed and I can stay here on the couch."

Bill winced inwardly as soon as he said it—was it too blatant?—but Saul seemed to perk up a little. At least, there was an imperceptible change in the way he held himself. His spine seemed to straighten a little, his features softened. "No reason we couldn't _both_ take the bed," he offered.

"I suppose not," Bill allowed. "It's up to you." He tried not to let his tone belie that this was the outcome he preferred. He desperately didn't want to feel as though he was coercing Saul.

"So," said Saul slowly. "Can I stay tonight?"

Bill nodded, but didn't say any more than that.

Even when Saul kissed him, Bill couldn't pretend it was still normal. His lips against Bill's felt different, unwieldy—he didn't want to label it _wrong_. It had been so long since they'd last kissed, Bill told himself, as he waited for Saul to be done in the head so they could go to sleep. It would take some getting used to, but sooner or later, they'd fall back into their old positions, like it had been when they were younger.

He heard the toilet flush and the hatch open and briefly, Bill debated pretending to be asleep. He listened to Saul pad over to the bed, then his footsteps stopped.

"This really okay?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yeah," said Bill, rolling over so his back was to the wall. "Come on." He lifted the covers invitingly and Saul slid in next to him ( _Still a perfect fit_ , Bill mused, as his arm instinctively slid over Saul's hip).

Saul looked at him squarely, holding his gaze for what felt like an eternity. Then, he leaned in, knowing that having brushed his teeth would make him a more appealing kisser.

Saul's kisses were messy and half-desperate and his hands cupped and caressed Bill's face, as if unable to decide how to proceed. They stopped, though, when Bill slid his hand up under Saul's tanks. It was too abrupt to disguise, though Saul told Bill he was tired, and he allowed them to remain like that, Bill's hand resting against Saul's stomach while he was pressed against Bill's chest. He seemed comforted by it, because he was snoring within ten minutes, and Bill had never known Saul to be quick to fall asleep.

Bill spent the night lying awake, listening to Saul's snores and reviewing their evening. He was glad they hadn't had sex—not just because neither of them was completely sober, but because it didn't feel _right_. A week ago, he and Saul had barely been speaking to one another.

"Maybe later," he murmured, looking down at Saul, one eye closed and the other hidden behind the patch. "When you're up to it."

He hadn't been expecting a response, and he didn't get one.

 

 **ii. _  
_**  
"Come on, you idiot, hang on to me." Saul's arm was wrapped protectively around Bill's shoulders as he maneuvered him down the corridor.

"I'm fine, Saul." Bill pushed one foot in front of the other with great effort. "Cottle patched me up. I'm good as new."

Saul snorted. "Your lip's bleeding again."

"Damn." Bill couldn't feel it, but he took Saul's word for it.

"Can I ask what you were thinking?"

"No." Bill couldn't remember what he had been thinking. He felt a little woozy from whatever Cottle had given him. He remembered the Dance, though, remembered Tyrol.

"I will say one thing," Saul went on. "It was nice to see _somebody_ lay you flat. I remember when you were unbeatable."

"Yeah, I was the champ," said Bill. He did remember that, remembered afternoons spent sparring back when they were just peacetime pilots burning off some steam. He remembered thinking he could really make something out of Saul, tall and skinny as he was. "But you could've been fantastic if you only applied yourself."

Saul ignored this, shifting Bill against him so he could open the hatch. "I remember you making me put my tags in every frakking Dance."

Bill chuckled. "That was fun."

Saul grunted and turned to pull the door shut. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

"Okay." Bill wasn't sure there was anything he could say to convince Saul otherwise, so he obediently let Saul lead him over to his rack, where he sat down. "You staying?"

Saul pursed his lips. He'd been sleeping there every night for almost a week, but he always seemed hesitant to impose. Every night it seemed like the previous times hadn't happened. He knew Saul was slow to adjust, but Bill wanted to tell him he was more than welcome to share his bed (and to do more, but he wasn't going to push _that_ when Saul was barely kissing him consistently.) He knew, though, that calling him out on his reluctance was a surefire way to send Saul retreating to his own quarters and the bottle.

Bill lay down.

"We're getting too old for this," said Saul, lifting Bill's legs into his lap and beginning to untie his shoes. "Did you think of that? Admiral can't exactly get in the ring and take a pounding from the frakking _Chief_."

Bill shrugged. "I did it. I don't anticipate having to do it again."

Saul sighed and yanked off Bill's socks. "I should probably stop trying to understand how your mind works."

"Mm." Bill reached up to rub his temple, wincing at the lump forming.

"You okay?" Saul's concerned face suddenly appeared in his field of vision. "You want me to get the doc?"

"Nah." Bill shook his head. "This isn't the worst I've been banged up."

Saul smiled thinly, kicking off his own shoes and swinging his legs into bed so he was straddling Bill. On a whim, Bill slipped his arm around Saul's waist, tugging him down on top of him.

"Oh, no," said Saul. "You're in no state for that." He was smiling, though.

"What are you talking about?" said Bill. "I feel perfectly fine. Ow." He winced when Saul brushed his thumb against his hair, right above the bandage.

This got a laugh out of Saul. "See? Gods, Bill, you need to rest. Stay in bed tomorrow."

"And what, are you going to do my job?"

Saul looked away quickly. "Don't, Bill. You know I'm not—"

"I know." Bill rubbed the back of Saul's neck absently. "Just wish you'd give it a try. I miss seeing you in CiC."

"You see plenty of me," Saul muttered. "I'm here all the damn time."

"This is getting too frakking domestic for my tastes," Bill informed him.

That got another laugh out of Saul. "Want me to bring you your pipe and slippers when you get home?"

Bill kissed him. "Only if dinner's going to be late."

They both laughed, until Bill started to cough.

"Okay," said Saul, planting a kiss to his forehead. "We're done here." He made to get out of bed, but Bill grasped feebly at the hem of his shirt.

"C'mon, Saul. Stay. It's really okay, I promise." The movement made him wince and it occurred to him that this was probably a lie. It would be nice to spread out and heal, but there was no way he could kick Saul out. Plus, it wasn't like he _opposed_ to it. He pulled Saul in for another kiss, but Saul laid a hand on his chest.

"Really, Bill. Not tonight."

"I'm—"

"Don't lie to me, Bill." Saul's tone was harsh, almost angry. "You're bleeding from at least three places and you have a goose egg on your forehead the size of my fist. You're not fine." He pushed himself out of bed and straightened his tanks. "Now, go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

Bill turned away from him and was facing the wall when the hatch closed.

It didn't happen the next day; in fact, it was almost two weeks later, on Saul's first day back at work, when they'd been laughing together about Bill-couldn't-even-remember-what (paper shortage?) that he'd yanked Saul to him, scattering Saul's papers all over the floor.

It hadn't been ideal—they were both hungry and this didn't do a good job of getting their minds off it. It was messy and desperate, with none of the sense they'd gotten of each other over the years, where they had the ability to do exactly what the other one needed, to tease just enough, to give at just the right moment.

They would get it right later, Bill thought, as he watched Saul dress, too tired to move, himself.

"That good?" Saul asked, turning to look at Bill as he buttoned his jacket.

Bill shifted, rolling his shoulders against the crick he'd gotten from their position. "Yeah," he lied coolly. He was getting the hang of this. "You're always good."

 

 **iii.  
**  
Things got messy after Earth. That was the _big lie_ , the one Bill felt worst about. That would have been bad enough on its own, but… Saul.

He still felt sick thinking about it, Saul being a Cylon. There were mornings he woke up wondering if it had been some awful nightmare, but then he'd realize he was alone in the bed and it had to be true.

Oh, they'd reconciled. After they'd almost shot each other, but still. They were on speaking terms. But Saul was holed up in his own bunk again, an occurrence that had gotten increasingly more rare ever since the algae planet, where they'd finally gotten reacquainted with each other's bodies and the way they worked.

And then there was Laura. He and Laura had developed a casual friendship since New Caprica that Bill was thankful for because it was fairly uncomplicated, but it gave him another person to worry about. He knew she had good days and bad days, and on the good days, she was almost like her old self.

Today was a bad day.

Bill knew it wasn't fair, but he almost hated looking at her, with the way it reminded him that he'd be alone, soon. He'd already lost Saul, he was reasonably sure, and here he was, going to lose her anytime soon.

"Are you all right, Bill?" she asked quietly, and Bill felt a rush of guilt. That was a familiar feeling lately.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. Lying was second nature by now. He wondered idly if he was still capable of telling the truth at all.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Laura asked, as if he'd just said the exact opposite of what he had said.

Bill was quiet, studying her on the hospital bed she lay in. She was the one with cancer, but she was the strong one here.

"Is it Saul?" she prodded, and Bill suddenly realized he and Saul probably hadn't been as discreet as they could have been.

Bill's silence gave her all the answer she must have needed because she went on.

"Are things okay between you?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah, we're fine." He wanted to end this conversation immediately, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Curse the lack of weather in space.

Laura obviously wasn't buying it. She pursed her lips, looking at him. "Bill," she said seriously. "You don't want to be alone."

"I'm not."

"What about when…?" she trailed off, but he knew what she meant. _When I die_.

"I'm not alone," he said. "I've got him."

"Oh, Bill," she said sadly.

Bill felt a prickle of indignation run through him at her pity. "What are you getting at?"

"Tell me you don't mind that he's a Cylon."

"I don't mind that he's a Cylon."

"You're lying." She lifted her finger with some effort, pressing it to her own left eyebrow. "There's a little crease right here."

Bill suddenly felt furious at his body for betraying him like that. How long had this been going on for? "I'm serious," he said. "We've already talked about this, he and I. We said—" He stopped, hesitating before divulging the details of their conversation to Laura. Their conversation hadn't _had_ any details. Not to mention that there was no way he was giving her details when he wasn't sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that she _knew_.

Laura looked at him expectantly.

"We talked," Bill amended. "And I told him I didn't mind. It doesn't change anything between us."

Laura yawned and Bill was about to pull out the excuse of having to go because she needed to rest when she said, " _Men_."

Bill blinked. "What?"

" _Men_ ," she repeated flatly. "I don't know how you expect to have a relationship with someone when you're skating around this issue. I'm sure he's not going to confront it any more readily than you are."

She had a point there. Bill sighed.

"I know it must be hard," she went on. "I know with Tory… but I can't even begin to understand how it must have felt for you."

Bill surprised himself by nodding. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he remembered the pain and the rage and the feeling of betrayal, like his own heart had been ripped out. It was, without a doubt, the worst thing he'd ever experienced. Absently, his brushed the pads of his fingers over the hand he'd cut that day.

"Tell him," said Laura gently. "Tell him how you feel about it and talk it through with him. He'll understand."

"I will," said Bill, swallowing hard, and it was the most difficult lie yet.

 **iv.  
**  
He was lying in bed, naked and slightly sore. _You just let a toaster frak you_ , the voice in his head said. _How would that have made you feel during the war, huh, if in forty years you knew you'd be getting frakked by a toaster.  
_  
Saul was somewhere outside his field of vision, pouring himself a drink. "You want anything?" he asked.

"No," said Bill. "I'm fine." He was surprised how normal his voice sounded to his ears, contrasting with the thoughts in his head.

Saul came back over to stand next to the bed, sipping from his glass.

"So, Bill, tell me something."

Bill glanced up at him. Saul's expression betrayed nothing. He was calm and relaxed after sex, unlike Bill who'd just gotten tenser. Once there'd been a time where Bill felt calm and relaxed after sex. It didn't happen anymore.

"Shoot," he said, pillowing his hands behind his head. There was something absurd about doing this naked, but he didn't want to pull the sheet up because that would just make him more conscious of it. "You can ask me anything, Saul, you know that."

"If you had known then..." He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. They both knew what Saul had been about to say. _That I was a Cylon.  
_  
Bill hesitated, another lie on the tip of his tongue. "If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have done a thing differently," he murmured, letting it come out. This was sick, the way the lies came so easily to him. Was even _capable_ of telling the truth anymore? He thought of when he'd been a little boy, telling so many tall tales that his uncle had sat him down and told him about the little Tauron boy who'd told so many lies that nobody believed him and he'd been eaten by a bear.

"You mean that?"

Bill paused. That was his downfall.

"Or are you lying to me?"

Bill winced. "Saul, I—"

"No, no." Saul shook his head. "I get it. It was a stupid thing to ask. Never mind." He set his glass down on the shelf above Bill's rack and turned to go, scanning the room for his clothes. He'd gotten his shorts on before Bill had mustered up the courage to call out to him.

"Saul, please."

Saul turned, and Bill could see the anger in his eye. "How long have you been pretending?"

Bill pushed himself up into a sitting position. "It's not _like that_ , Saul," he insisted, and he could hear the panic in his voice, remembered Laura's words. Of _course_ he didn't want to be alone. "How would you have reacted if I told you the truth?"

"Well, I'd rather you'd told me the truth than _lied_."

"Saul, I'm sorry." Bill swallowed the lump in his throat and vowed right then and there to never lie to Saul again. Never.

Saul didn't exactly forgive him right away, but he did pause in fumbling with his tanks. "It really does bother you, doesn't it? What I am?"

Bill was quiet.

"It bothers me, too," Saul added. "I just… I thought you were okay with it."

"I am," said Bill. He looked away when Saul turned around. "But at the same time, I'm not. It's just hard."

"I know," said Saul. "It's hard for me, too. I thought I was _human_ , Bill. I thought I was born on Aerilon, I thought my dad was a surveyor who used to go down to the pub, come home and cuff me around. I thought I ran away from home when I was fifteen to join up after the Cylons killed him. I mean, _gods_ , Bill, I was never in the war! All that stuff… _None_ of it was real, not 'til I met you. And now I don't even know _what_ I am. Was I ever fifteen? Was I ever even _born_?"

"I don't know," said Bill quietly.

"I know," said Saul. He ran a hand over his scalp.

"C'mere, Saul," said Bill, opening his arms. Haltingly, his arms and legs moving like an automaton, Saul came over and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad I've got you." He cleared his throat. "However that happened, however you got to the Colonies from Earth, in whatever form you took, I'm glad I've got you."

Saul's hand hesitantly came up to cup the back of Bill's neck and his thumb came to rest right under his earlobe. "You mean that, do you?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Bill, and he could look Saul square in the eye while he said it because that was the truth and the truth felt good.

Saul smiled, making Bill's heart beat a little faster. It was like something breaking open inside of him, the prospect of not lying to Saul anymore. It was just a kernel of an idea now, but if he could keep it up… He could just tell him the truth from now on and Saul would always be here. Maybe it was taking him for granted, but Bill was past caring.

"I love you," Saul murmured, a wobbly edge to his voice.

Bill swallowed hard, remembering his promise to himself. "I love you, too," he said, hugging Saul, relishing the feeling of the other man's arms tightening around him.

There it was again, the truth. It felt even better the second time, or maybe that was just because Saul was kissing him, and everything that had been bothering Bill before just melted away. He'd forgotten Saul had the ability to do that.

"Feels good," Bill said, as they lay down together.

"Mm? What does?" Saul's head had been drooping onto Bill's shoulder; his voice had that fading quality Bill recognized as meaning he was on the edge of sleep.

"Telling the truth."

Saul snickered. "Bill, you are one of the most honest men I've ever met. You can't lie anyway; you've got that crease on your eyebrow."

"Oh?" Bill rubbed Saul's back distractedly, feeling his body relax. "I never heard that before." That would be the last one. He swore.


End file.
